


The Prick and the Newt

by SchwulerJungeRo



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, M/M, Unexplained Magic, and this is all in a kind of modern setting, it's just full of cliche situations because it's meant to be a play on the fairy tale, newt got turned into a salamander smh my head, oh also newt can't talk, prince and the frog type story, this is from their letter days, this is heavily divergent from canon lmao but it's fine, this is kind of a joke fic but it is very much a real fic, this is like their disastrous first meeting but on a different level
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchwulerJungeRo/pseuds/SchwulerJungeRo
Summary: Hermann and Newt have their first meeting, after three years of letters to and fro, in the worst way possible. Now, they have to spend their time together fixing things. Oh, and Newt is a salamander who can't talk!Or: A play on the classic fairy tale of the princess and the frog with Hermann and Newt, respectively.
Relationships: Karla Gottlieb/Vanessa Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	The Prick and the Newt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mechanical_Curse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mechanical_Curse/gifts).



> If I'm being honest this came about because my friend (shoutout to [Marie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mechanical_Curse) on here mwah) was translating things from English to French and it kept referring to Newt as a salamander and I thought that was the funniest shit ever. Naturally, my immediate first response was to make a fic about it. And a multi-chapter one at that, something I've never done nor have I even attempted to do, so we'll see how this goes!  
> PS. I promise the jokey titles aren't indicative of the quality of the writing, I was just fucking around and thought I was a god damn comedian for some of them lmao  
> Special thanks to my betas, my friends [Kayleska](https://www.instagram.com/rasp.jpg/) and [Farrow](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/newtiphile) mwah, mwah, I love all of y'all
> 
> Also: there are a few small things written in German, just check the end notes for translations!

Hermann’s nightly routine had been set into motion as he took himself through everything he knew he had to do to be able to unwind and relax himself for bed.

He got a glass of water from his sink, still grateful that Karla and Vanessa got him a filter for his faucet as a birthday present that year after lots of complaining about convenience and taste, and spent his time sitting at his kitchen bar while silently looking out into his small and drearily empty apartment. He hadn’t intended to come back to Germany for very long, but what had started as a temporary job transfer turned into Hermann helping with babysitting for his sister and sister-in-law, as well as job deals coming from left and right, conferences asking for his appearance, and his father stepping too far in to his business as he always had for him to return back to Cambridge anytime soon. He never quite accepted that he ought to settle in.

He sighed and set his empty cup into the sink, flicking the light off and making his way down the darkened hall to his laundry room where his night clothes were currently ending their short cycle. Hermann pulled them out, savoring their warmth, before heading to the bathroom. There, he changes, brushes his teeth, and takes a moment to stare at his reflection in the mirror. He looked to the bags under his eyes, to the creases drawn deeply into his face, to the resting frown he never truly meant to carry and he began to wonder about his long-time “pen pal”. He wonders if he’ll take to Hermann looking so aged compared to the few professionally done photos of him that exist online; if he’ll be thrown off by his staunch professionalism and general demeanor that often puts people at a distance even though his letters mirrored this attitude (at least for the first few paragraphs); or if Newton, himself, happened to be hiding anything, given that for the last 48 hours after saying that he’d be in touch once his jet lag wore off he had practically disappeared.

Somehow, he both had and hadn’t expected something like this. The thought itched in the back of his mind that something had been off with Newton the last time they talked, but he had refused to entertain the thought that he would ever “ghost” him like this, he told himself that they “weren’t like that”, that “he was different”, that “he understands”. Now, he wasn’t sure of anything. He refused to mull over it any longer, afraid of it resulting in those eye bags and creases getting worse. He finally arrived at his bedroom, turning all of the lights off except his bed lamp, and sat himself at the edge of his bed. He rested his cane against the nightstand and replaced its presence in his hands with a book he had been meaning to finish, though as he shifted to lay back and eyed the cover he realized he was in no real mood to read. He quite frankly just wanted the day to come to an end so that he didn’t have to feel anxious or disappointed anymore, even if just for a few hours of blankness. The book discarded, he adjusts his pillows to lay flat and lets himself fall back to stare up at his ceiling.

That was when he saw the small blue, green, and grey looking _thing_ moving in rapid figure eights directly above him. He couldn’t help becoming increasingly confused.

_‘A lizard? No, it looks… wet.’_ He sat up and squinted, trying to get a closer look, to no avail. He tossed his legs back out of his bed and reached quickly for his cane, fearful that the creature, whatever it was, might fall and land directly in his lap. He maneuvered the cane up and as he made contact with the ceiling right in front of the hyperactive splotch, it stopped, turned, and crawled right on to it, seeming to be patiently awaiting the departure downward. Hermann did so, and started to walk carefully to the front door, intending to put it back outside where it belonged.

It had other plans.

On his way past the kitchen, it flung itself off his cane on a down-step and Hermann flinched, making a more than indignant sound thinking that it was going to jump on him until realizing it was attempting to make a mad dash for the counter top. He watched in the dark as it ran, heaving its body up over the cabinets and drawers, pulling itself up and onto the counter, and crawling behind the sink. When he flipped the light on he saw that it had begun knocking itself softly against the faucet handle, as if it wanted to push and turn it on but wasn’t strong enough.

Hermann decided that allowing it water wouldn’t hurt before putting it outside and he (quickly, avoiding touching the thing) turned the tap on to a drip. This seemed to be exactly what it wanted, and he watched once again as it dove into the sink and set itself under the water for a moment. After it was seemingly satisfied with how moist it was, it quickly pulled itself out of the sink basin and onto the counter again, where it began rubbing its belly against it in strides. In _letters_. By the time it was finished it had managed to spell something out.

_‘Herms’._

“Mein Gott…” Hermann staggered back. This was possibly the oddest, most ominous thing that has ever happened to him. He only knows one person who uses that nickname with him and the fact that his nickname-sake was seemingly spelling it out on his counter made his head spin. He decided to double down on denial.

_‘This is a coincidence. Or I must be dreaming. It couldn’t possibly happen again.’_ With that thought, he shuffled over to the other side of the counter top where a dish rag sat beside the sink. He walked up to where the watery mucus was stuck, shuddering a bit at the understanding of what it was, and wiped it all away until the counter was mostly dry. He looked to the sink where the, well… the _newt_ sat under the drip of the faucet and they made eye contact. Hermann felt utterly ridiculous trying to test and see if this newt was literate, but he had a very bad feeling about what was happening and he needed to know.

Sure enough, the newt hopped out of the sink after a minute and began its mission again, only it was spelling something new this time. It dragged its body and lifted itself up for the next letter, twice, three times, four, and then it retreated to the sink where it awaited a reaction.

_‘Newt’._

“Verdammt nochmal, ich weiß, dass du ein Molch bist! Gib mir noch etwas!” He shouted angrily and far too loud, given the time. The newt jumped slightly before vigorously wiggling itself side to side and making yet another journey out of the sink. It adds six more letters.

_‘Newton_

_xoxo’_.

Hermann stares in stunned silence, having expected to have been woken up by now or to get shaken from his coma any second to be informed that his building had collapsed in on itself and that he had been rendered unconscious or heavily medicated or _something explicable, some reasonable explanation as to why he was talking to a damn slimy lizard._

No such relief or explanation came. Not in the way he wanted, expected, or cared to believe, anyway. He quickly tore two sheets of paper off of a notepad he had sitting at his bar and with the pen that was beside it, he quickly scribbled down the (American) alphabet, as well as a set of punctuation marks, and the word “space” on one while keeping the other one blank and in hand for himself. He then wiped off the counter top again, set the alphabet sheet down, set the towel down beside it, and readied his pen. The newt, or rather, _Newton,_ if he was going to be playing into all of this, took notice and bounded up to the towel, scooting against it to rub off as much moisture as it _—_ as much as _he—_ could without ending up hurting himself. He walked over it once dry enough and entered into a tirade of chin-tapping against the paper that Hermann could barely keep up with.

_‘dude i cant explain how weird this ~~isiam~~ is i am so fucked i dont know what to do you have to believe me you have to help me ~~herms~~ Dr. Gottlieb ~~idi~~ i didnt mean ~~toend~~ to end up like this it just kinda happened and ~~ifeel~~ i feel like im kinda losing it here man!!!’_

“Alright, alright! Just calm down, I believe you. I don’t know why, as I’m likely hallucinating from a gas leak in the building or something along those lines, but I do. And I’m… well quite honestly I’m tired and confused and ready to call it a night or perhaps call an ambulance for an escort to a facility of some sort that might be able to help me grip reality better…” Hermann discards the paper, figuring guesswork would do just as well should Newton have more to say, and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing and sitting heavily at the bar behind him while contemplating what exactly his next move should be. He looks up when he hears the paper slide slightly and sees Newton tapping something else out.

_‘maybe if you kissed me i’d turn into fucking prince charming or something if this is sooo terrible for you to deal with’_

Hermann pauses. He ponders it for a second and realizes that this is all likely just as overwhelming for Newton as it is for him, if not worse, and that he didn’t really mean that. Not that Hermann would have taken him up on such an offer while he’s like _that_. He takes a deep breath and sighs in exasperation for the third time that night. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I meant. We’re… we’re going to try to get you help, Newton, although I haven’t the foggiest idea what you expect me to do about this situation. Seeing as you’re the biologist here, I would expect you’d have a better idea on what your situation even is.” The tapping continues.

_‘doesn’t mean i know shit about herpetology! or fucking magic’_

“Magic? Now I’m really beginning to think something’s just gone awry in my head. I’m rambling on to a damn newt, for god’s sake!” Hermann hangs his head to rest in his hands and takes another deep breath. He hears the soft shuffling of the paper and hesitates before looking up again.

_‘im actually a salamander i think’_

Hermann does something to startle both of them; he laughs. The laugh wasn’t necessarily because Newton’s correction was just that funny, but was more of a reaction to the shock and irony of it all settling in. Imagine your first meeting with the man you’ve fallen in love with, after years of exchanging letters back and forth, to be _in writing_ and not exactly to whom you would expect. Though he was still meeting with _a_ Newt and the arguing was still the same as it always was. And it’s _literally_ magical. He felt like he could be sick.

“I’ll leave the tap on. We’ll figure this out in the morning. And really, _Dr. Geiszler_ , I can’t believe this is how you’ve managed to end up spending our limited time together.” Newt wiggles side to side again, this time with a soft disgruntled clicking noise, in an attempt to shake his head in defiance. Hermann huffs, stands, and turns to leave for his room, ignoring the softly shuffling paper and continuous angry chirping he can hear behind him. He quickly made his way back to his bedroom where he grabs his phone and opens up his messages to the top group chat. There are only two people he could possibly think to ask for assistance with this. After a brief cry for help, he sets his phone down and tries to force himself to sleep for the next hour.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/newtongottliebstie) for more content of the newmann variety.
> 
> Translations:  
> Mein Gott - My god  
> Verdammt nochmal, ich weiß, dass du ein Molch bist! Gib mir noch etwas! - Damn it, I know you're a newt! Give me something else!


End file.
